Richard Adeney, who has died aged 90, was a popular and gifted flautist, a favoured interpreter of the music of Mozart, Britten and Arnold, who in 2009 startled his former colleagues with an autobiography revealing his recollections of life in the orchestral cauldron – both professionally and personally.
Richard Adeney playing the flute
In his teens the young Adeney had vowed “to become the best flute player in the world, to have a huge amount of sex, and to make some sense of the mysterious and confusing world”. The first he confessed to failing to achieve, although others disagreed, insisting that his playing was invariably rich and glorious with a wide range of colour; in the second he was undoubtedly successful, leaving a detailed account of the many different flavours of his extramusical activities; the outcome of the third ambition he took to his grave.
When he started as second flute with the London Philharmonic, Adeney was warned by the principal flautist, Arthur Ackroyd, to “never, ever forget that the conductor is your natural enemy”. It was advice that he took to heart, declaring in Flute, published by Brimstone Press, that Sir Malcolm Sargent, his bête noire, “seemed to have little feeling for music and much for his public image”.
More alarming was how the pressure of orchestral life manifested itself in the sexual fantasies he described, including how he frequently pictured himself walking on to the concert platform holding his penis in place of his flute.
Such revelations did nothing to undermine the many years of ravishing musicianship that he gave in two spells with the London Philharmonic (1941-50 and 1961-70) under conductors as diverse as Henry Wood, Wilhelm Furtwängler and Sergiu Celibidache; with the English Chamber Orchestra in its early days directed by Daniel Barenboim; and with the Melos Ensemble, the chamber music group that he helped to found in 1950 with Cecil Aronowitz (viola), Gervase de Peyer (clarinet) and Terence Weill (cello).
His friendship with Sir Malcolm Arnold was an important one. They first met at the Royal College of Music and by 1940 the composer had penned his Grand Fantasia for flute, trumpet and piano, with Arnold playing trumpet. A decade later there came a Divertimento for flute, oboe and clarinet, which Adeney performed with Sidney Sutcliffe and Stephen Waters, followed in 1954 by a Concerto for flute and strings. The 1972 Flute Concerto, accompanied by full orchestra, was also written for him.
Adeney was a regular fixture at Aldeburgh, where he had a role in many of the important postwar works written by Benjamin Britten, for example playing in the premiere of the War Requiem in 1962 at Coventry Cathedral and its subsequent first recording, and taking part in the first performance of Curlew River (1964), one of Britten’s three church parables in which the musicians dress as monks. He recalled with delight how “Curlew River had more rehearsal time than any new work that I have ever played”.
Richard Gilford Adeney was born in London on January 25 1920, the son of the painter Bernard Adeney, whose first wife had later married his friend Walter Sickert. Richard knew many of the Bloomsbury set. Henry Moore was a family friend, and Richard’s mother Noelle, also a gifted artist, made the red dress worn by Guilhermina Suggia in Augustus John’s portrait of Suggia playing the cello.
He was educated in the progressive surroundings of Dartington before entering the Royal College of Music (which was reluctant to accept him) in 1937 to study flute with Robert Murchie. His first performance at the college was in Bach’s St Matthew Passion conducted by Vaughan Williams.
Adeney was most particular about his instruments and style, preferring the expressiveness and refinement of the French school and, until late in his career, performed on wooden rather than metal instruments, from which he could offer a broader and more sonorous palate of colours.
He retired in 1990, selling all his flutes “for I feared becoming an incompetent amateur sadly harking back to lost expertise” and replacing them with cameras. He emerged 19 years later with his tome which, unlike most musical memoirs, settles old scores both personal and musical. Celibidache is described as a one-time bulimic, Bruno Walter as “dull” and Riccardo Muti as “an arrogant, coarse bully”. Sir Adrian Boult, meanwhile, stands accused of requiring an orchestral assistant to check his flies before going on stage.
In places Adeney discusses the art of flute playing, but he soon digresses to include musings about what “strange fantasies” might be going through the minds of an orchestra’s guest artists while he is “merely tooting a flute”; he is thinking of “those crazy-looking pianists”, the “close-eyed, emotional violinists” and “frantic, over-the-top conductors”.
His recorded legacy is more wholesome and includes rich, full-blooded accounts of works by Debussy, Ravel and Roussel with the Melos Ensemble, as well as the Arnold pieces.
He is also heard distinctively on discs of Bach’s Brandenburg Concertos conducted by Britten and the St Matthew Passion under Sir David Willcocks.
On one occasion the Queen Mother approached him during the interval of a concert with the Melos Ensemble on a hot evening in King’s Lynn and suggested that he remove his jacket. Adeney demurred, saying that it would show off his unattractive braces. “Well take those off too,” she retorted. “But Ma’am, then my trousers would fall down,” he remonstrated. “Well that would be fun,” Her Majesty laughed.
He was a volunteer with the Samaritans for 25 years.
Richard Adeney, who died on December 16, was married, in 1944, to a woman called Sheila. He left her four years later and thereafter enjoyed the single life.
Ten years ago Adeney, who was known to his friends for being handsome and introvert, had dinner with the raconteur John Amis who, over soup, asked him the secret of his good health. “Sex four times a week,” came the 80-year-old’s reply. Over coffee Adeney admitted his deceit: “I exaggerated – twice a week.”
http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/obituaries/8319543/Richard-Adeney.html
Richard Gilford Adeney was born in London on January 25 1920, the son of the painter Bernard Adeney, whose first wife had later married his friend Walter Sickert. Richard knew many of the Bloomsbury set. Henry Moore was a family friend, and Richard’s mother Noelle, also a gifted artist, made the red dress worn by Guilhermina Suggia in Augustus John’s portrait of Suggia playing the cello.
He was educated in the progressive surroundings of Dartington before entering the Royal College of Music (which was reluctant to accept him) in 1937 to study flute with Robert Murchie. His first performance at the college was in Bach’s St Matthew Passion conducted by Vaughan Williams.
Adeney was most particular about his instruments and style, preferring the expressiveness and refinement of the French school and, until late in his career, performed on wooden rather than metal instruments, from which he could offer a broader and more sonorous palate of colours.
He retired in 1990, selling all his flutes “for I feared becoming an incompetent amateur sadly harking back to lost expertise” and replacing them with cameras. He emerged 19 years later with his tome which, unlike most musical memoirs, settles old scores both personal and musical. Celibidache is described as a one-time bulimic, Bruno Walter as “dull” and Riccardo Muti as “an arrogant, coarse bully”. Sir Adrian Boult, meanwhile, stands accused of requiring an orchestral assistant to check his flies before going on stage.
In places Adeney discusses the art of flute playing, but he soon digresses to include musings about what “strange fantasies” might be going through the minds of an orchestra’s guest artists while he is “merely tooting a flute”; he is thinking of “those crazy-looking pianists”, the “close-eyed, emotional violinists” and “frantic, over-the-top conductors”.
His recorded legacy is more wholesome and includes rich, full-blooded accounts of works by Debussy, Ravel and Roussel with the Melos Ensemble, as well as the Arnold pieces.
He is also heard distinctively on discs of Bach’s Brandenburg Concertos conducted by Britten and the St Matthew Passion under Sir David Willcocks.
On one occasion the Queen Mother approached him during the interval of a concert with the Melos Ensemble on a hot evening in King’s Lynn and suggested that he remove his jacket. Adeney demurred, saying that it would show off his unattractive braces. “Well take those off too,” she retorted. “But Ma’am, then my trousers would fall down,” he remonstrated. “Well that would be fun,” Her Majesty laughed.
He was a volunteer with the Samaritans for 25 years.
Richard Adeney, who died on December 16, was married, in 1944, to a woman called Sheila. He left her four years later and thereafter enjoyed the single life.
Ten years ago Adeney, who was known to his friends for being handsome and introvert, had dinner with the raconteur John Amis who, over soup, asked him the secret of his good health. “Sex four times a week,” came the 80-year-old’s reply. Over coffee Adeney admitted his deceit: “I exaggerated – twice a week.”
http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/obituaries/8319543/Richard-Adeney.html
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